The Fallacy of StarClan
by Minatu the Terrible
Summary: Rookwing discovers that StarClan isn't for every cat under the sun, regardless of how their life was lived.


**I wrote this for the DimClan challenge: Stars Appearing!**

**Onwards.**

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><p><span>The Fallacy of StarClan<span>

Rookwing lay in a pool of his own blood. His eyes rolling back into his skull. He had forgotten the sensation of filling his lungs with air. His world was the short, shallow breaths. In, out, in... out...

What was existence without pain? Rookwing didn't know. His brain was growing a little fuzzy, and there were a few blocks in his vision. He no longer knew if he was going to live or die. Going on to StarClan wouldn't be so bad, apparently life was rather peaceful there unless you were still involved in the politics of the living. What a silly thing, an obsession with being in that physical world.

Rookwing blinked slowly, his breath starting to leave him. His heart wasn't racing anymore. It was like... falling asleep. Easy. All the pain seemed to drift right out of his reality. Rookwing wondered if he was dying. He let it take him regardless. If anything he would go to StarClan. He had been fighting to protect his clan anyway.

He shakily let go of his last breath, and his conciousness left him. Rookwing sunk into the darkness. It was gentle, comforting. He half expected to be led out of it, but he remained.

Slowly, it grew cold, and Rookwing gazed about, half expecting a StarClan cat to approach him and take him to the revered place. But there was nothing.

In a panic, Rookwing reflected upon himself and the life he led to find what he had done, where he had gone wrong. He feared that he would be pulled down to the Dark Forest. Perhaps he was not the good cat he thought he was.

Rookwing had crossed a border once in pursuit of a rabbit, but that was a harmless thing. ThunderClan had laughed it off. He had been a bird brained apprentice then. Surely that couldn't have caused this everlasting darkness to be the resting place for his soul. It was so empty there...

He pressed further into his memories, searching for the moment he fell off of the path of the righteous. Rookwing suddenly remembered the she-cat he had fallen in love with.

Briarthorn, a brilliant ShadowClan cat. She had the most beautiful silver eyes, which were a rare color that captivated him the moment they met. Nothing ever came of it. They were separated by the whole of the ThunderClan territory as he was from WindClan. They had only been friends... Ultimately, she chose a mate within her own clan, never even realizing Rookwing's feelings for her.

Miserably, Rookwing let out a soft sigh. That couldn't possibly be the reason, could it? Surely there were other cats who had loved someone they could not have. It was a silly thing, to think it wouldn't happen. Self-deprecatingly, Rookwing considered the thought that StarClan simply didn't want him there.

He decided once more that it had to be something he had done and moved forward through his regrets and failings.

Rookwing fell in love twice in his life. The second time had been quite rude awakening for him, and again, nothing had come of it. Rookwing had fallen for a fellow tom in WindClan. Flameleap had been similar to Briarthorn in some ways. They were both cats that stood out in some way or another to Rookwing. They both had their own sort of beauty too.

In Rookwing's confusion, he often compared Flameleap and Briarthorn in attempt to somehow understand why he felt this way. He never understood it. He just did his best to hide and shield himself. The only thing he could do about it in the end was focus on being the best warrior he could be.

In the end, it probably hadn't mattered if Flameleap was akin to Briarthorn in any way, shape or form. It hadn't mattered at all. Nothing had mattered, and Rookwing was a mouse brain for ever believing it had! StarClan had proven to be a beautiful lie, and his entire life was wasted. He had tried so hard to be a good warrior, but it hadn't mattered, not at all.

He was there for Gorsefeather when she had her kits, all alone, after the death of her mate in some half-baked plan. Gorsefeather had leaned on him heavily for emotional support. He was her brother after all, and they were all each other had at the time. Her kits, Cloudkit and Rabbitkit, had looked a lot like Whiteclaw. Rookwing had a sadness then too, but it was incomparable to Gorsefeather's.

Whiteclaw had been a really good cat too. One of those that Rookwing knew deserved to go to StarClan more than any other cat. Back then, he had often reassured Gorsefeather that she would see him again in StarClan, and it had worked. Now, Rookwing was horrified by the fact that it had. He glanced down at his paws warily. They were beginning to disappear. He realized this with terror glazing over his mind. He was going to stop existing.

Rookwing thought for a long moment about Flameleap. The two had spent a lot of time together. He considered them good friends, and he felt ill. As if he had betrayed Flameleap in some ways for feeling something beyond friendship. That was what he had done wrong. This was what prevented Rookwing from entering the glory of StarClan.

StarClan had to exist, after all. It simply had to. If it did not, how would Gorsefeather see Whiteclaw again, and how would Whiteclaw ever see his kits? StarClan, those two deserved something better than the life they were given. Even if they had strived to make it as happy as they could, they deserved StarClan. Even if it meant Rookwing was rejected from it. Even if he was doomed to disappear in the darkness for his sins. He wanted just that one good thing for his sister.

Then Rookwing was gone. Simply, and entirely unpoetically, he merely disappeared as if he had never existed at all. StarClan, after all, was where the remembered lived, after all.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading and all that jazz. I really enjoyed writing this.<strong>

**~Minatu**


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